


The Peculiar Case of Winter Island

by Politelycynical



Category: Final Fantasy VIII
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-21
Updated: 2017-12-21
Packaged: 2019-02-17 20:07:19
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,720
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13084422
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Politelycynical/pseuds/Politelycynical
Summary: MULTICHAPTER, IN PROGRESS: They had been supplied with nothing more than villager sightings and local lore. Quistis tutted and scrutinized the photographs of sheep that had been torn to shreds. Bright crimson muddied the snow beneath them, coiling out from the center in intricate, crystalline patterns.





	The Peculiar Case of Winter Island

The dossier was severely lacking in detail.  They had been supplied with nothing more than villager sightings and local lore. 

_Local shepherd reports that he found his flock massacred after shadow is spotted roaming fields._

A shadow. 

That’s what they had to go on.  The account didn’t even supply the shape of said shadow.   Quistis tutted and flipped the page.  She scrutinized the photographs of sheep that had been torn to shreds.  Bright crimson muddied the snow beneath them, coiling out from the center in intricate, crystalline patterns. 

She sipped her tea, not spilling a drop as the Ragnarok lurched violently. 

“Fuck,” Cadet Almasy hissed as he braced against a nearby jumpseat for support.   

“ _Sorry.  Turbulence.”_ Fujin’s voice echoed through the intercom.

Quistis glared out of the corner of her eye at Seifer as he plopped loudly down in the seat beside her.  He hit the reply button above them, signaling the bridge.  “Please be advised- we’re not going to be any help to the nobodies in Bumfuck, Nowhere if you crash the ship, Fuj.”

“ _There’s a storm on the radar,”_ Fujin explained through the static.

“Language.” Quistis said through pursed lips.

“Pardon me, Princess.”  Seifer rolled his eyes and waved a casual hand in her direction, “Did we know there was a storm before we departed?”

“ _Negative. It was headed towards Dollet this morning.  Looks like it’s defying forecasted data.”_

Seifer tapped his foot impatiently, gripping the shared armrest.  “Then let’s turn this heap around and go home.”

“ _Affirmative.”_

Seifer turned off the com link and sank further into his seat, stretching his long legs out in front of him.   His knuckles were stark white, and his eyes were guarded.

Quistis reached across him quickly and spoke directly into the intercom. “Do not, I repeat, do not turn this ship around.”  She instructed Fujin.  “Storm or no storm, we have our orders.”

_“Wilco, Trepe.”_

“Are you serious?” He started tapping a monitor nearby to pull up the weather report. 

“Are you scared?” She quipped, sipping her tea and watching him critically over the rim.

“Of a storm?  No.  I’m a _little_ _scared_ of Fujin crashing this fucker into a mountain range.”  He glared at her.  “She is blind, you know?”

“ _The com is on.”_

“Right.” Seifer quickly turned it off. 

“We’re perfectly safe, Cadet.” Quistis watched the clouds growing thicker as frost crept up the edges of the glass of the aircraft.  Seifer fussed with the monitor grumpily. The multicolored storm swirled through the forecasted time-lapse. 

She opened the dossier.  She sat her teacup down and held the gruesome images of torn livestock up to the light primly.

“Risking our lives to kill a wolf.” Seifer grumbled. 

Quistis subtly shook her head. “Unlikely, the kill patterns are meticulous.”

“Fine,” He spat. “A coeurl then.  It still doesn’t explain why we’re flying halfway around the world to kill some monster. They have guns, don’t they?  Point and shoot.  That’s all they needed to do- Not hire mercenaries.” He shifted uneasily in his seat, securing the belt tightly at his waist. “How much could Garden possibly be making off of a bunch of farmers?”

“Coeurls don’t live on Winter Island, and nothing.”  She placed the dossier securely in her backpack and then went through the supply checklist for the fifth time. 

His brows furrowed as he watched her.  “What do you mean nothing?” He asked incredulously.

She sighed and sat her papers down on her tray table.  “This mission is gratis.”

Cadet Almasy groaned loudly.  “You’ve gotta be kidding me.”

She glowered at him as he continued being what he always had been – _a disruption_.  “Hopefully you’ll be more pleasant when you have two feet on the ground.”

He glared at her and crossed his arms.

“I had no idea you were so scared of flying.” She smiled icily.

“I’m not!” 

“I would be embarrassed if I were you.”  She teased. 

“Just shut up, will ya?” He snatched the checklist off of the plastic tray table and started going through their inventory. 

Being Seifer’s academic babysitter was just what she expected it would be like. _Like being a_ _real babysitter._  

He was fussy and stubborn and a few weeks ago he had pitched a fit because their recon mission ran over.  He had bitched about being hungry and then proceeded to complain about the quality of her company.  No matter how far he came- he would always be that insolent child that she met on Centra. 

Seifer was her biggest failure, and now he was her biggest test.  Others could be forgiven for their shortcomings.  Edea could burn cities to the ground, but with a flip of her dark hair and a matronly smile, she was treated as a welcome family member by all of the inhabitants of Garden.  Irvine had shown his true colors as a serial cheater, and yet other than a tension between him and Selphie, their group laughed off his misgivings.

Even Seifer, through all of his mistakes and bad luck, was given chance after chance.  Cid and Squall had made it Quistis’ personal mission to make him into a SeeD.  She was his private tutor, his personal trainer, and his unwilling caregiver.  Seifer could misbehave- he could get in bar brawls and drag her out of bed to bail him out of jail, but in the morning the fault would be her own.

Quistis lived by different standards than the others.  This had been true for as long as she could remember.  Try as she might to be perfect, she was constantly stilted in her attempts to advance her career and her personal relationships.  By her friends, she was regarded as needy whenever she reached out.  By her colleagues, she was an untalented child that had peaked early and could look forward to only a downward slope in her profession.

These were all truths that she had come to accept.

He had finished the checklist and had moved on to taking long, controlled breaths.

She was pulled out of her reverie- her mental pity party that seemed to play on repeat in her mind these days during her downtime.   Only then did she notice the rattling of the fuselage.  Her teacup scooted closer to the edge of the table.  She placed a calm hand over it right as it tried to teeter over the brink.

“ _Hyne.”_ He whispered as the winds made their aircraft quake.

She smiled widely, resting her hand on his forearm.  “You’re going to be fine, Cadet.” She soothed him condescendingly. 

He shook his head, looking green.  “All for a fucking wolf.”

She leaned across him again and rest her palm on the opposite armrest as she pressed the com button.  She heard Seifer inhale sharply.  “Fujin, ETA.”

The intercom crackled. “ _Ten minutes.”_

“Thank you.”  She turned off the com again.  “See there?  Ten minutes.  That’s nothing.”  She turned back towards him, her body bent at the hips as she leaned against his armrest.  She was surprised to see a crooked grin on his face.

She lifted an elegant eyebrow at him right before she felt a warm hand slide across her backside. 

“I’m feeling better.” He said lowly.  His voice rumbled-his eyes drinking her in as his smirk spread.

The aircraft lurched again. She didn’t stumble in her footing, but his hand disappeared from her bottom and clutched the armrest again. 

“You shouldn’t be.”  She threw herself into her seat, locking the belt securely.  “After all, we might die on this plane. “  She said coldly. 

“That’s not funny.” He growled. 

“You deserve worse,” She said severely.  “Let’s discuss parameters.”

He rolled his eyes, “Find, kill, return.”

“Very good.”  She praised him in an unspirited fashion. “How do we find our target?”

He leaned his head against the headrest and closed his eyes. “The animal has been killing livestock in a radial pattern across the northern slopes of Winter Island.”

“Correct.”

“It is likely that its dwelling is somewhere on the northeastern ridges of the Trachian Mountain Range.  I propose that we start in the center of the kill-vicinity and spiral outwards until we pick up its tracks, from there Hyperion will do what Hyperion does best, and we’ll be home by breakfast.” He adjusted his gloves and then checked his gunblade case at his side.

“Please hit the com.” Quistis asked as she saw the faint outline of the coast through the static of the blizzard that was ravaging beneath them.

“Sure you don’t want to do it?” Seifer grinned at her.

“Cadet,” She warned.

He tapped the button boredly. 

“ _Yes?”_ Fujin drawled as the com chimed.

“Set us down near the village.” Quistis ordered.

They heard a sigh through the crackling of the cloudy com line.  “ _No can do.”_

“Why not?” Quistis demanded.

“ _Visibility is low.  I can’t tell what’s land and what’s water.  The blizzard is too thick.”_

Quistis watched Seifer yawn widely, his ankles crossed in front of him.  She smiled to herself.  “What would you suggest we do, cadet?”

“Pull a 180 and head to warmer waters.” Seifer returned her smile.

“Incorrect.”

“Fujin said we can’t land.” He said slowly.

“Which means the Ragnarok will need to land away from the storm, but we can disembark with ease.”  Her grin widened as the horror melted into his handsome features.   

“Are you _fucking kidding me_?”  His voice lost its suave, confident rumble and became shrill in the small ship.

“Please prepare repelling gear for our descent, cadet.”  She patted him on the shoulder before unstrapping her harness.  “Might want to check the connections twice.  It’s a long way down if a carabiner isn’t secure.”  Quistis began pulling large backpacks of survival equipment out of one of the cargo holds.  “Fujin, please bring us above the north valley.”

_“Wilco, Trepe.”_

_\------_

When his feet touched solid ground, he thanked Hyne silently.  The descent was frightening.  His only comfort was that Trepe had wanted a tandem rig for their departure to avoid any chance of them getting separated.  His larger mass had meant that he had been fastened in a tight harness that was attached to the think nylon ropes.  Quistis had connected her harness to his own, effectively joining them at the pelvis.  She had wrapped her thighs around his and pressed fully against him as the Ragnarok had lowered them to the earth.  The winds had whisked by their thin tether, but he had felt the warmth pouring off of her. 

She was annoying and a total bore to be around, but he would be lying if he denied her beauty.  He tore off one of his gloves and reached an agile hand between their bodies. He unscrewed the safety on their shared carabiner.  She watched his fingertips silently as he unlatched her before working on getting out of his own harness. 

 He dropped the nylon onto the snow and grabbed both of their packs.  They both started walking away from the turbulence that the Ragnarok’s engines were whipping up in the snow.

“Fujin, we’re clear.  See you when the storm clears.” Quistis said into her com.

“ _Roger.”_ The black rope disappeared into the whirlwind above them. Glimpses of the silhouette of the Ragnarok appeared and disappeared through the chaotic static, looking like a monster floating in the clouds.

They could hear the fusion engines draw further away from them.  They both tore into their packs, removing the essential garden issued survival winter gear.  When they were both wearing thick gloves, heavy coats, and googles, they headed towards the faint outline of the town in the distance. 

The storm hadn’t quite reached the mainland yet, only wisps of the outer rotations had caused the heavy snowfall.  Visibility was low, but the bright lights from the town’s sky beacon gleamed ahead.   Quistis hoisted her heavy pack higher on her back as she began to ascend the small ridge leading to the small town of Edenmore.

“I can carry both if you’d like.”  Seifer mumbled, pulling his coat tighter. His boots were already cold.  Three minutes in, and he was already losing warmth. 

“C’mon, Almasy.  Don’t turn into a gentleman on me now,” she called out over her shoulder.

He chuckled behind her as she trudged through the snow.  When she looked back at him, he smirked widely.  “Don’t worry, Trepe.  No gentlemanly intentions over here.  You’re just slow as hell, and it’s cold.” 

“Always bitching.” She teased.  

“Uh huh.”  He hummed back.  The wind swallowed up his response.  He didn’t care to repeat it.  

He was concentrating on keeping track of her in the low visibility.  The clouds had blocked almost all of the sunlight.  He knew that it couldn’t be later than three in the afternoon, but with the thick snow and the swirling clouds, Seifer could barely make out the town in the distance.   It had looked much closer when they were on the Ragnarok above.  Although the town was on the horizon, Seifer estimated that their hike would take at least thirty minutes in these conditions.

Quistis pushed forward without complaint.  She carried her pack high on her shoulders and kicked with each step, trying to dig the cleats on the fronts of her boots into something stable beneath the snow.   Seifer tried to mimic her technique and found the climb up the steep hill to be a little easier. 

Edenmore’s sky beacon flashed behind the constant static of the snow.   The terrain leveled out when they reached the town.  They used the buildings to block some of the wind as they walked down what appeared to be Main Street and headed toward where the map said they would find their lodging for this excursion, The Edenmore Inn.  They kicked some of the snow off of their boots on the stone steps leading up into the cottage-style tavern.  Then, Seifer pushed open the heavy, wooden door.  

The tavern was what you would expect in a town like Edenmore.   Plaid armchairs sat near a roaring fire.  A hound dog snored loudly in front of the fireplace, his back feet occasionally kicking.  The windows all had their shutters tightly closed to protect the glass from the storm.  The bar itself was an amber colored wood that gleamed cheerily in the warm light. 

The bartender smiled at them from behind the bar. “You two made it just in time.  SeeDs?” He reached under the counter and pulled out a large ledger.

Seifer sat his heavy pack near the fire place and sat down in one of the armchairs while Quistis took care of booking their room.  He was frozen to the bone.  His socks were wet, his face was raw from the wind, and he couldn’t feel his fingertips. 

Quistis pulled off her heavy gloves to shake the large man’s hand.  “We’re representatives from Balamb Garden.”

Seifer snorted.  _Representatives_.  Read mercenaries.  Hired guns.  

Representatives was a more PR-friendly term in this post-war world they were living in.  He shrugged his heavy coat off and then pulled off his sweater and laid them on top of his bag.   They were soaked.   His cotton t-shirt slowly dried out from the warmth of the fire. He took care as he moved towards the flames not to step on the snoring dog, who had claimed the prime real estate in front of the fireplace.

“We’re happy you made it. I heard Zed lost half of his flock last week.  People around here won’t last long if we can’t keep our livestock breathin’.”  He smiled kindly before turning the large ledger towards Quistis and handing her a pen.  “If you could just fill this out, Miss, we’ll get your room set up for you.” Trepe started filling out their guest register. “Could I interest you two in a drink while you wait?”

Seifer’s head perked up. 

“It’s on the house.”  The bartender said.  “I’m Stew, by the way.”

Seifer plopped down on the barstool beside Trepe.  “Good to meetcha, Stew.  What do you say, Trepe?” He grinned at her as her eyes narrowed icily at him.  “It would be rude to refuse this good man’s offer.”

She opened her mouth to protest, but Seifer quickly interjected.  “I’ll have a bourbon, if you got it.   And my girl right here is a Rosé kinda lady.”

Stew walked down to the other end of the bar to prepare their drinks.  Trepe huffed at him. 

“What?” Seifer rolled his eyes.  “Don’t act like you’re not a sucker for Rosé.  That’s all I’ve ever seen you drink.”

“I hardly think that it’s appropriate to drink on our first night here.” Trepe pursed her lips. “We’re here to do a job.  We don’t need a repeat of Deling City, _now do we_ , cadet?”

“I mean- Leonhart’s engagement party had an open bar.  The fucker completely forgot to set a limit.  Top shelf was up for grabs, and what did you order?”  Seifer chuckled.  “Just a Rosé, please.”  He said in a ridiculously high pitched voice. 

Quistis shrugged off her coat and ignored him while her pen continued to glide efficiently across the register.

“Pulled out of bed at three in the morning to get you out of jail,” she grumbled,  “Angry calls and voicemails from the commander and headmaster while I waited for the police to release you into my custody,” Quistis ranted.

“C’mon, Trepe.” Seifer had his elbows on the bar and was resting his chin on his laced fingers.  “It’s not like we’re going anywhere tonight.  It’s a fucking blizzard outside.” He heard ice clinking into a tumbler.  “A drink will warm our bones back up,” he reasoned with her. He held her gaze and pleaded with a smile.

 “One drink.” She acquiesced.

He grinned crookedly at her in the mirror behind the bar.

 “But you have to go over the case with me afterwards.  We’re going to be prepared tomorrow.” She met his eyes in the mirror and raised an elegant eyebrow at him.  “Understood?”

“Of course,” He replied. “We here to do a job.” He said, repeating her earlier sentiment.

Stew sat their drinks down in front of them.  Trepe turned the guest register back to him and took a delicate sip from her wine glass.

“ _That_ is a nice Rosé.” She said, with a sarcastic grin on her face.

Seifer laughed loudly, watching her over his glass.  This was a first.  He had never successfully talked Quistis into having a drink with him before.

This kind of opportunity needed to be handled with the utmost care. 

“That’s right, Trepe,” he started. He took a sip of a surprisingly good bourbon and relished in the burn before continuing.  “We’re in the mountains,” he drawled- his voice low and measured.  “Snowed in for the night.” He leaned his head onto his hand and watched her carefully.  “Could be pretty romantic.”

Quistis looked at him stonily.

“Since you’re here to save the town, I will upgrade you for free to our honeymoon suite.” Stew said from behind the bar as he grabbed a set of keys off a hook on the wall.  “You two are going to make it.” Stew topped off Quistis’ glass. “I can tell.”

“That won’t be necessary—“

“What kind of amenities does the honeymoon suite have?” Seifer asked shamelessly, grinning wide at her as her brows furrowed.

Stew looked proud as he polished a glass.  “King-sized bed, of course,” he described, “It has a lavish balcony facing the mountains. It’s the only other room in the lodge with its own fireplace-“

“Bear skin rug?” Seifer asked, throwing a saucy wink at his superior. 

“Of course.” Stew replied, grinning. “And the bathroom has one of those whirlpool tubs-with the jets and everything.”

“Big enough for two?”  Seifer joked.  As he cast a sideways glance at Quistis, he realized that he had made a mistake.  Trepe had gotten up from her barstool.  Although her expression was incredibly calm- he knew better.   Her face was always blank and stony when she was furious.  He could see the tension in her shoulders- the way her fists were clenched tightly enough that her nails were probably digging into the flesh of her palms. 

He slid the keys towards Seifer. “I reckon it might be big enough for the two of you—“

“Enough.” Quistis said evenly, pushing the keys back to the innkeeper.  “Please excuse the misunderstanding, sir.   Almasy here is a cadet.” Quistis smiled icily.  “This is his field test.  He is nothing more to me than a student, and I am nothing more to him than a proctor.” 

He hated the way that sounded. 

“C’mon, Trepe.” He said quietly.  “We’re at least friends.”

She didn’t even look at him before continuing to address Stew. “Do you have a business suite?  Perhaps with a line that can dial out of town and a living room space for our investigation?”

“Of course, Miss.”  Stew looked positively uncomfortable.  He grabbed a set of keys off the wall.

With the new key in hand, Quistis smiled apologetically at him.  “Thank you for your hospitality.” She gathered her bags.  Her pink wine sat forgotten on the amber bar, condensation clinging to the glass.

She always ruined his fun.  Besides—that room sounded bitchin’. 

“Anytime, Ma’am.  I’m sorry for—“

“It’s perfectly fine.”  She waved a hand.  “Cadet Almasy always seems to forget himself.  Do me a favor?” She asked politely.  “Don’t serve him another drink tonight.”  Seifer rolled his eyes.  She was talking about him like he wasn’t in the room. “He’s his own worst enemy,” she explained.

Stew nodded. “Dinner’s at six.”

“Thank you, sir.” 

Seifer watched her in the mirror with a frown on his face as she moved towards the staircase. “See you upstairs to review, Almasy.”  She called out over her shoulder.

He and Stew sat in silence for a minute as Quistis’ footfalls echoed across the room.

“Sorry about that, man.”  Seifer shook his head, sipping his bourbon.  He looked forlornly at her wine glass.  One step forward and two steps back.  It was always like that with her.  “She’s a real piece of work,” he explained.

 “She doesn’t seem that bad,” he said as he wiped down the counter. “You should see how bad my wife is,” he joked.

Seifer laughed, swirling the ice around his empty glass.  He sat the tumbler down and pulled out his wallet.  “Could I get another bourbon?” He asked hopefully.

Stew chuckled heartily at the question, and Seifer joined him. 

Stew stopped suddenly.  “Absolutely not.”

Seifer sighed.  “Oh, Stew.   And here I had thought we were friends.”   Seifer shook his head sadly and slid off of his barstool.   He put a tip on the counter, grabbed his things, and ascended to the second level of the lodge.

The upstairs was surprisingly small.  Three doors lined the hallway. Another staircase sat at the end that very likely led to the honeymoon suite.   Seifer unlocked their door and was immediately disappointed.

The room had a very modest living room with a desk and a few lamps.  The bedroom area had two double sized beds, a shared nightstand, and a small closet.  An old box television sat atop a dresser with a rabbit ear antenna mounted to the top.   The comforters and curtains on the windows matched the armchairs downstairs at the bar.  It seemed like everything in The Edenmore Inn was covered in a red and green plaid.

A clothes horse was above one of the floor vents.  Quistis’ clothes from the day were draped over it, slowly drying.   He could hear the shower running through a door that connected to their bedroom. 

He sat his pack down on the floor beside the unclaimed bed and took off his wet boots and socks.

He laid across the end of the bed and draped his arm over his eyes.  The storm raged outside, occasionally rattling the closed shutters.

_He is nothing more to me than a student, and I am nothing more to him than a proctor._

They had never been close, but they had to be more than that.   After all, they spent the past six missions together in close quarters.  Every deployment was just the two of them spending days in a hotel room discussing tactical parameters and hours in the field running surveillance.  

The shower turned off and a few minutes later, a hair dryer kicked on.

Sure, they didn’t always get along.  Quistis was severe to say the least, and Seifer had always liked to have a little fun from time to time, but they had to at least be friends, right? 

That and the quip about his drinking in Deling City had been particularly cold of her to say. 

That had been a very bad night for him.  

The bathroom door opened.  He peeked from behind his arm as Trepe emerged from the bathroom in black sweatpants and a long-sleeved t-shirt. 

“Oh- hi.” She said when she noticed him.

He grunted in response. 

“You should get a shower.”  She suggested as she started pulling the case’s dossier apart and laying it across the end of her bed in what he guessed were logical piles.  “I can finally feel my fingertips again.”  She reached into her bag and pulled her glasses out before climbing into the middle of her big bed.

He cracked an eye open at her and closed it again.

“Sulking?” She asked.

“You know that honeymoon suite would have been rad, right?” He said, shifting so he was laying like a starfish across his bed.  “We’re not exactly acclimated to this climate, and it had its very own fireplace,” he whined at the ceiling.

Quistis rolled her eyes.  “It had one bed.”

“C’mon, Trepe.  You act like I’m some kind of creep.”  He sat up, facing her. He paused for her to deny it.  She lifted an elegant eyebrow at him.  “We wouldn’t have shared the bed,” he explained quietly.   

She watched him carefully, waiting for the punchline.   He smiled.  She knew him so well.

“We would have shared the rug,” He joked.

“Annnnnnnd, there it is.”  She shook her head.

“ _…down by the fireeeee,”_ He sang in his deep baritone.  He chuckled and stood up, unclasping his belt.  “Of course, you’ve gone and blown our cover, so now we’re stuck with this room.”  He gestured around pitifully.

“Seifer.”  She pursed her lips.  “Our mission on Winter Island is, in fact, not to scam an innkeeper out of a free upgrade to a honeymoon suite.” She averted her eyes when he unzipped his pants.  “What are our mission objectives?”  She spoke more to the bed in front of her than to him.  

“To kill the wolf.”  Seifer smiled at the faint blush on her cheeks as he draped his pants over the clothing horse.   It’s not like he was naked.  He had boxer briefs on.  They had went swimming with their friends plenty over the summer.  He was wearing more clothes now than he wore to the beach.

After all, he still had his shirt on.

He grinned wickedly and reached for the hem of his tee.

Her eyes snapped up to him, glowering.  “ _Objectives_ ,” she repeated. “As in plural.”

Oh.  She wasn’t concerned about the shirt.  She was glaring at him for a completely different reason. 

He thought hard about their debriefing at the garden and everything they had discussed on the shaky plane ride over.  He racked his brain for some kind of clue.  There was a second purpose for this mission?   Being Quistis’ only student was hard.   She always expected him to be on the same page as her, and if he were being honest, he rarely was.

After a moment, he gave up and stared at her blankly.

She sighed loudly and pinched the bridge of her nose. “Yes, we’re here to stop whatever it is that’s been plaguing this town’s livestock population.”

Seifer waited patiently. 

“But a very big priority for you should be to pass the field test.”  She watched him carefully.

Seifer laughed.  “Oh, that.”

“What’s so funny?” Seifer was happy that she looked confused for once.

He dug around in his bag for some cozy clothes to wear after he got of the shower.  “Leonhart gave me unlimited attempts. So, I’m not too worried about it.” He shrugged.  “I’m going to grab a shower.  Then we can talk about the case.”

 

 

                                                                                                                                     


End file.
